when you wake
by ulstergirl
Summary: The only thing Nancy hates more than being sick is seeing someone she loves sick.


"Sweetheart, I need to talk to you."

Nancy looked up at her father with wide eyes. She had just been reaching for her glass of milk, but when he spoke, she froze, pulled back. He sounded very serious, and her heart hurt a little in anticipation. When he sounded like this, it meant something bad.

"I know you were going to go see Ned for lunch tomorrow, but his mother called. He's in the hospital."

"Hospital?" Nancy repeated. It was hard to talk. "Is he okay?"

"He had surgery today. He was in a lot of pain and the doctor figured out his appendix was infected. They had to take it out."

Nancy's mouth dropped open. Hannah's soft rolls smelled amazing, but Nancy's plate was still empty. She couldn't believe what her father was saying. Ned had to be okay. They had just seen each other the previous weekend. The weather had finally been nice, and they had ridden their bikes down to the river and played and had a picnic. The thought of Ned in a hospital bed—

"But Dad, is he okay?"

"He should be, but it will take him a while to get better. The doctor had to cut him open."

Nancy shuddered as Hannah walked in. "The poor sweetheart," she sighed. "I'll make a casserole to send over."

"That sounds wonderful, Hannah."

Nancy couldn't believe how calm they were being. "Can I see him?"

Nancy's father gazed at her for a moment. "That wouldn't be a good idea," he said. "He will be in a lot of pain and need to rest."

Nancy sniffed and looked down. "Can you ask?" she whispered, then looked up at her father again. "Please, Daddy?"

He released a soft sigh. "I'll ask," he said. "But, Princess, you'll probably have to wait until he comes home. All right?"

"Okay," she whispered.

She didn't eat much of her dinner. When she thought of Ned being hurt, her stomach hurt too, and she wasn't hungry. It was Friday night, and she and her father usually did something fun together, played a game or watched a movie, but Nancy couldn't concentrate. She couldn't make a decision on what to do, so her father suggested a movie and she cuddled up beside him, feeling miserable even though her father's arm was draped over her shoulders.

Ned wasn't home tonight. He was in the hospital. What if he was there alone, and scared...

She made up her mind that no matter what, no matter how, she would find a way to see him and make sure he was okay.

* * *

Nancy had started considering if she should take a stack of phone books out to her father's car and put it in the seat, so she could see over the steering wheel when she tried to drive, when he told her that they could go see Ned that afternoon. She nodded solemnly at him in response, glad she hadn't grabbed the phone books yet. Then she considered what she might want if she was stuck in bed for a while.

The hospital was a big place that looked like a business. An ambulance was parked in front of it, with the lights flashing, and Nancy's eyes widened. Her father had a solid grip on her hand, and he didn't look worried or upset at all. Nancy kept her chin up, making her strides long like his.

There were so many people inside. Some of them looked upset; a few were moaning. Nancy's heart hurt for them, and she hoped Ned wasn't in pain. Her father found an elevator and they rode up to another floor, and Nancy's stomach was flipping. She was afraid of what was about to happen.

Ned's parents were in the room with him, talking to him. They both smiled when Nancy and her father walked in. "Hey, sweetheart, there's Nancy and Carson," Ned's mother said, and she patted Ned's hand. She spoke very gently.

Nancy's eyes widened when she saw Ned. Ned was in middle school; he was taller than Nancy, two years older, and very strong. When they raced, he almost always beat her. He was always laughing and happy.

Now, though, he was pale and he looked sick. Nancy's heart hurt when she saw him, and the way he only smiled a little. "Hi," he said quietly. Even the sound of that was sad.

Nancy walked slowly over to his bedside, her gaze locked to his face. "Hey," she whispered, and reached out to touch his hand. "Are you okay?"

He took a breath and nodded slowly. "It's better," he murmured. He looked so upset. He had to be in a lot of pain. Nancy's eyes pricked with tears.

"I'm sorry you're sick," she whispered.

Ned gasped in another breath, then looked into her face. "Oh," he whispered. "Don't cry. I'll be okay. It just hurts right now."

Nancy nodded. She couldn't help it; she wanted to wrap her arms around him and shush him and stroke his pale face. She settled for stroking her thumb against the back of his hand as a tear streaked down her cheek.

Then she felt someone pat her back. "I know," she heard Ned's mom say. "I know it's scary to see him like this. I hate it, too. I wish I could just make him feel better."

Nancy nodded and sniffled, still gazing at Ned.

"Honey, I'm sorry, but he needs to rest."

Nancy nodded, watching Ned's dark lashes drift down. He moaned softly, and gave her hand a little squeeze. She didn't want to leave him, but at least his parents were here. They would make sure he was okay.

Nancy sniffled again when she released Ned's hand. Then she gasped. "I brought him a puzzle book," she said, sliding her bookbag off her back. "I mean... I thought he might want something to cheer him up."

"That's very sweet of you," Ned's father said. "Thank you."

Another tear slid down Nancy's cheek as she turned to give Ned one last glance. He was curled up on his side, facing the door, his eyes closed and his face still drawn with pain. Nancy's father had his hand on her back. "Feel better," she whispered.

When they were out in the hallway, Nancy's father lifted her up and gave her a hug, and she buried her face against his shoulder, sniffling. "Hey," he murmured, rubbing her back. "He'll be okay, and playing with you again in no time. Shh."

Nancy nodded, and he kissed her forehead before he put her down again. She took his hand, and as they walked out, she didn't see anyone around her. Her heart, her thoughts, were still in that small room that smelled of old clothes and antiseptic, where Ned was.

* * *

"Hey."

"Mmmm." The voice was soft, gentle. She felt a warm hand against hers. With another soft groan, Nancy opened her eyes.

"There you are, beautiful."

A nurse asked her a few questions, and Nancy had to force herself to concentrate; it was so hard to listen and actually hear what was going on. Ned was holding her hand, and his was the first voice she had heard on waking.

"Did it go okay?" Nancy murmured, then coughed. Her throat was scratchy. God, she was so tired.

"Everything went fine," the nurse assured her. "Just relax."

After the nurse had made a few notes, she left, and Nancy was alone with Ned. His hand was still wrapped around hers, and she held it tightly. She had been afraid of the surgery, to an almost irrational degree; it had been relatively minor, but it had still involved being put under, being cut open. Everyone else had joked that she had been sedated plenty of times with no problem, but this was different. This wasn't some villain wielding a bottle of chloroform.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

"Mmm. Tired," she murmured.

"Just a little while longer and I can take you home."

"Mmm." Her lashes drifted down. "C'mere."

Ned chuckled. "Oh?"

"Mmm-hmm." It was so hard to concentrate.

"I won't let you go. I'll be right here."

"No," she forced out, then opened her eyes. "Come _here_ ," she demanded.

Her bed was narrow, but she was on her side. Ned climbed up onto it with her, spooning up behind her. "Keep breathing," he murmured, gently resting his palm over her, in the middle of her chest. "Just keep breathing, that's what the nurse said. In and out."

"Mmm." Nancy tried to take a deep breath and coughed, then moaned. "Tired," she whispered.

"I know. You've been through a lot."

He helped her when she suddenly felt nauseated and moaned in discomfort; he held her hair and wiped her face, and spooned up behind her when she returned to the bed. She couldn't keep down the crackers and ginger ale the nurse gave her, but once she was able to keep her eyes open for longer than thirty-second stretches at a time, the nurse said she could leave when she felt ready.

For not the first time, as Ned supported her and they walked into the elevator in their apartment building, she was glad she didn't have to manage the stairs like this. She felt miserable and weak, and she just wanted to sleep. She was practically drowsing again as Ned turned the key in the apartment lock, his other arm wrapped around her waist, her head against his shoulder.

"Bed?"

"Mmm. Couch," she murmured. He helped her over to it, and she lowered herself slowly, trying to keep from hurting herself. He went to the kitchen and brought her a glass of water to take her pain medication, and once she had, she slowly slumped to the cushions, praying that it wouldn't come back up.

"Can you—sit with me?"

He found her a light blanket, then put a pillow on his lap. She rested her cheek on it, closing her eyes.

"It's okay," Ned whispered. "You can sleep. I talked to our parents and they're glad you're doing okay. They wanted to give you some time to relax. Mom will probably bring us half a dozen casseroles tomorrow."

"Mmmm." She brought her knees up. "You remember—your appendix?"

"Not really," he said, and she could hear the humor in his voice. He stroked her upper arm. "But yeah, I remember when it came out. How miserable I felt after that."

"You were always—so strong," she murmured. "It scared me—to see you. Like that."

"I can imagine." He stroked her arm again, then gently stroked her hair. "And for as long as I've known you, you've never liked being weak either. It's gonna be okay, sweetheart. In a few days you'll be back to your old self. You just need to get some rest."

She sighed. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too, baby. Shh. I'll be here when you wake up."

Her lashes drifted down. His hand was warm on her hair, and even though she was hurting, his touch was soothing. He cared so much about her, and it warmed her heart.

She woke a few more times, but only long enough to visit the bathroom or to take another pain pill. She was relieved that she didn't throw up again, but she still felt miserable. Whenever Ned asked, she refused food; she had no appetite, anyway.

The next time she woke up, the room was dark, and she was in bed with Ned beside her. She ached; she needed a shower. She needed some water.

When she slowly, carefully turned to face her bedside table, she saw a bottle of water there, beside her pill bottle.

The ghost of a smile touched her lips. He really was incredibly caring and sweet. Seeing him hurt always hurt her heart, always had. Whenever _she_ was hurt, Ned did everything he could to help her feel better.

"Hey," he whispered. "Need some help?"

He helped her sit up, and she gasped after she had taken her pill. Then she slowly settled back onto her pillow and let out a long groan.

"It's all right," he whispered. "Are you feeling any worse?"

"The same," she murmured, and nestled deeper against the pillow.

"Comfortable?"

"Almost," she whispered.

He moved closer, and she released a soft, pleased moan as she moved into his arms. He rubbed his palm against her back, and she breathed him in. The scent of him, masculine with a hint of musk and a whisper of pine, always made her feel like home.

"Right where you belong," he whispered, and kissed her temple. "Sleep, honey. I'll even make you breakfast in the morning."

She released a brief, almost rusty laugh. "You really do want me to get better soon, huh."

"Hey. I think I can manage some toast and juice." He stroked her hair. "I love you."

"Love you," she whispered, closing her eyes again, lulled to sleep by the steady beat of his heart.


End file.
